


Afraid

by Sauerbraten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Slash, References to the US healthcare system (are u guys okay?), Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauerbraten/pseuds/Sauerbraten
Summary: Edward needs somewhere to hide from the Batman. Jonathan just wants to stop being afraid.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Comments: 11
Kudos: 56





	Afraid

Jonathan Crane hated feeling afraid. Fear was something to study - to observe - to cause his victims to writhe and scream before him; not something for himself to engage in... Not anymore.

Whenever the flood of anxiety pooled into his stomach he would feel weak. He hated how he was presently afraid of Edward Nygma. The man in question stood at the doorway of Jonathan's current hideout; suit torn, and wounds bleeding. He spoke with words so rushed and desperate, but Jonathan had just stood there attempting to keep his usual deadpan expression.

"I promise you I won't stay too long." Edward was out of breath.

"I just need to stay low for a while, and wait for someone else to get the Bat's attention tonight."

Jonathan let out a sigh and closed his eyes. It would be rude to let the man fend for himself in such a state; and besides, he was too powerful an ally to abandon. Edward was only a bit more physically strong than Jonathan, but it was his ability to digitally cripple an entire conglomerate that made the Riddler a revered figure in Gotham. He had destroyed a few billionaires who crossed his path - setting the NSA upon them with nefarious illegal material that suddenly appeared on their computers. The theatrics with the riddles successfully covered the true dangerous intelligence that he possessed. But that wasn't what scared Jonathan.

He opened his eyes again.

"Come in..."

"Go clean up, and I'll sort out your wounds. I won't have you bleeding on my furniture."

He stepped aside to let Edward pass through. The smaller man thanked him and dragged himself across the apartment to the bathroom door. It was a small place; but big enough for Jonathan. During the sleepless nights where darkness made all the rooms seem as hollow as Jonathan felt, the room was a cavern.

Horrifying stillness. He wasn't a materialist, but occasionally he found the empty walls and shelves to be just a bit too empty for comfort. At least he knows where everything is he thought, as he opened up a drawer in the living room cupboard. He removed the first aid kit, which felt heavy in his hands. He had barely used it these past months. He really needed to get out more often. The roll of bandage felt soft as he pulled it out from the box. Unwinding some, he wrapped it around his finger and then he noticed how bad his hands were shaking. From the bathroom he heard the shower stop. He hadn't noticed it turn on in the first place, but his breath caught in his lungs for a moment - Edward Nygma was using  _ his  _ shower.

If only he knew what Jonathan did in there. The man who's name often escaped his breathless lips was standing in the exact place where Jonathan would shamelessly moan it to himself.

"Do you ever wash your towels, Jon?" Edward said as he walked out from the bathroom scrubbing at his wet hair with one of Jonathan's towels.

"I'm surprised that I haven't found straw sticking out of one."

Jonathan couldn't think of a sarcastic reply back. His brain had lost its capacity to function at the sight of Edward before him; naked except for the thin towel wrapped around his waist. Jonathan's eyes flickered across pale hip bones, and the hairless expanse leading down from Edward's stomach.  _ Of course he shaves _ , he thought,  _ the damn narcissist _ .

Scars covered the expanse of skin - a physical history of the man’s life etched permanently in flesh. Many of them old; a few of them new. And some of them, extremely new.

Jonathan was a Godless man. His grandma had driven any remains of faith out of him. As it turns out, being hit round the back of his head with a bible as a child didn't make him feel too amorous towards the book. But at the end of the day, tradition was tradition - especially in the South. Any speck of reason would leave him at times like this, and all he could think was how wrong everything was. The redhead flopped down onto the battered sofa. Jonathan's eyes met his… casually mischievous.

"Well then Doctor… Are you going to patch me up?"

Setting the first aid kit on the coffee table, he moved towards the sofa - grabbing a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and tweezers in the process. Immediately he set to work in a hyper focused trance.

Removing small shards of glass, dabbing at the wounds with cotton pads and disinfectant, applying bandages where needed. He made his way across the scratches on Edwards body, hands working rhythmically with clinical precision. 

Being so close to the other man brought back memories he tried so hard to suppress. The times both of them shared a cell in Arkham; the many hours of deep conversations over drinks at the Iceberg Lounge, and the quiet frustrations that grew when loud taunts turned to caveat whispers.

Then there was last year. Fourth of July. Gotham’s crime was shockingly silent. Only the explosions of fireworks erupted across the city. Jonathan had been half-invited - half-threatened - by Harley Quinn to attend a party in her penthouse apartment. Edward had been there. Despite the mass of people crammed onto the building’s roof to watch the fireworks outside, Jonathan had enjoyed the evening. The combination of alcohol and Edward made the crowds of Harley’s friends melt out of his attention. Among the technicolor chaos, all he could focus on was the other man. His immaculate suit, his perfectly parted hair, his slim hands wrapped around a whiskey glass, and his genuine laugh at Jonathan’s deadpan jokes. Rainbows had danced across his freckles as the fireworks crackled in the night sky. 

It was that face that met Jonathan in his dreams; or at least those dreams where Scarecrow didn’t come out to torture him. 

“OUCH!” Jonathan snapped back to attention - noticing that he had tweezered the last piece of glass from Edward’s hand.

“That hurt! Did you reopen the wound?”

Edward peered at the back of his hand as Jonathan took an antiseptic wipe to it.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Edward retorted; his hand relaxed while Jonathan held it steady to apply antiseptic cream.

“Trust me - I’m a Doctor.”

He carefully wound gauze around Edward’s hand.

“Isn’t your degree academic, and not medical?”

Jonathan glared at the other man.

“Shut up, Edward.”

Despite Jonathan’s annoyance; or the fact that he was holding up scissors to cut the bandage, Edward did not shut up.

“I want to speak to your manager, this is patient abuse” The redhead smirked.

All he could think of when he looked at Edward’s pale hand was the way those slender fingers would glide across the keys of his laptop. He tries to move his hand away in shame; but Edward grabs his wrist.

“Unless the Bat knocked your brain clean out, you should notice that I’ve finished being your personal Doctor.” Jonathan drawled.

“I hope you have health insurance, because I want those bandages reimbursed.”

The grip on Jonathan's wrist tightened slightly - the thumb stroking over the blue vein lines.

“Thank you for your help Jon, but -” Edward’s lips drew into a cocky smirk.

“- My usual doctor doesn’t check me out like you do.”

“Don’t be so narcissistic.”

Despite his racing heart, Jonathan’s voice gave nothing away.

“I can’t help it.”

And before Jonathan could think, Edward darted forward and pressed their lips together. Briefly. No more than a few seconds, and he pulled away. 

Jonathan felt his eyes blow up wide, behind them his brain was screaming at him.  _ You’re going to hell.  _ A mix of his own voice, Scarecrow, and that stupid bitch of a grandmother. Despite himself, he moved his free hand up to cup Edward’s cheek. 

And he pulled the other man back in.

At first it was soft. A meeting of lips - almost cautious. Then Edward slid a hand behind Jonathan's neck, fingers gripping at his hair. Edward’s tongue graced across Jonathan's closed kiss, coaxing for entrance which he was granted. As the kiss deepened, Jonathan suddenly became very aware of Edward’s state of undress. He drew back to catch his breath, cheeks flushed.

“That was…” Jonathan’s brain froze as he searched for a word to describe his confusion.

“New.”

“Yeah.” Edward seemed slightly dazed at what had just happened.

“I half expected you to shove me off, and fear gas me.”

“I probably should.” Jonathan murmured - leaning back in.

That time - when their lips connected - he was more forceful. Fingers roaming along the other man’s naked chest, resisting the urge to peel back the bandages and dig in with his fingernails.

As his hand drew down towards the other man’s lap, Jonathan thought about how much his grandmother’s God must hate him at that moment. 

He smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my friend for proofreading and dealing with my dumb ass.
> 
> I promise I'll post actual smut one day.


End file.
